After disarming and rendering unconscious the closest two Chinese operatives, John retrieved the second attacker’s submachine gun and regained his footing. He turned to face the sound of the commotion he’d heard in the middle of his own struggle.
Standing before him was a lithe, light-skinned African woman with pale blue eyes. Gunslinger eyes, John thought, the initial shock of this woman’s sudden appearance fading away. This day is full of surprises.
At her feet lay the two bodies of the Chinese attackers John had ignored as he dealt with the two closest to him. They were no threat now. Blood slowly leaked from their lifeless bodies into the hallowed ground below.
A bright, multicolored scarf was tightly wrapped around her upper body, revealing two scabbards for the dual stilettos she held, blood staining each. And then he realized the truth—she’s LEGION. A beautiful, trained killer.
“Who are you? I know you’re not contractors,” she said in a calm, controlled voice. “Any idea why these men attacked you?”
John’s reply was interrupted as he and his savior looked skyward, their attention caught by the sound of rotors from an approaching helicopter. What now?
Gunfire erupted in the back of the cemetery, followed by a smaller pop. Moments later, a white SUV crashed through the iron gate and pulled alongside the small, stone building. He heard the helicopter grow closer and saw it rise up like a large, ancient bird from behind a five-story building next to the cemetery.
“My name’s John, but I don’t have time to explain. We need to help my friends, although it sounds like they’re doing okay for themselves.” He nodded toward the memorial in the back of the burial ground. “You must be LEGION. We know all about it,” he said, cutting her off before she could interrupt him, surprise written on her face at the mention of one of the most closely guarded programs in the US government. “Do you want to grab the submachine gun, or do you prefer the blades? Either way, let’s move.”
“My name’s Amira—my real first name, that is. Let’s go help your friends. We’ll talk later,” she said matter-of-factly.
She sheathed her weapons so quickly John almost missed it. She may move more smoothly than anyone I’ve ever seen. Will wonders never cease? She bent down and retrieved a Type 05 submachine gun as John broke into a run.
The helicopter descended rapidly, its landing gear lightly touching the pavement as the flying beast settled.
John and Amira were halfway to the memorial when gunfire erupted from the direction of the SUV. Bullets kicked up grass and dirt in front of them, and they dove behind two headstones.
“Goddamnit!” John muttered. Bullets tore chunks out of the white marble. “I swear I’m going to kill these motherfuckers!”
“Not if you hide behind that tombstone, you’re not!” Amira said, darting around the marker and moving up to the next row.
She’s fearless, too.
There was a brief pause in the gunfire, and John joined Amira. He glanced over the nearest headstone. They were still fifty feet from the SUV, and he saw movement beyond it, figures moving toward the helicopter.
Bullets pockmarked their cover again, strafing relentlessly back and forth.
Finally, the gunfire ceased, and John peeked over the headstone. There was no one near the SUV, which meant only one thing. They’re getting away, and they’ve got Logan and Cole.
“Let’s go!” John said, and jumped over the tombstone, sprinting toward the SUV, using it to partially block his movement. Amira was close beside him.
They reached the SUV just in time to see three Chinese men load Logan and Cole’s bodies into the open compartment of the helicopter.
John aimed at the rotors and opened fire with the submachine gun. Bullets peppered the Hind’s blades but had no discernible impact on their power.
Amira followed suit, but a young Chinese man with a short haircut turned toward them, drew his pistol, and returned fire as the helicopter lifted off the ground.
Holes appeared in the windshield and passenger window, driving John and Amira behind the SUV’s cover once more.
John controlled the rage that seethed through his body. He focused on his breathing and shut his eyes. The gunfire ended, and he and Amira stood up as the helicopter banked upward and away, moving west.
Automatic gunfire erupted from the back of the helicopter. What the hell are they shooting at now?
His question was answered when a small explosion echoed across the sky several hundred feet above him as bullets tore apart the embassy’s UAV.
“Motherfuckers,” John said again, gritting his teeth as he wrestled with his emotions. “Excuse my French,” he said to Amira, almost as an afterthought, his quips on autopilot again as the adrenaline in his system subsided.
“No apology necessary. I’ve killed four of these bastards already,” Amira responded coldly. “I’ll be happy to increase the body count.”
“A woman after my own heart,” he said, the comment leaping out of his mouth before he could contain it. “Wait a minute. Four? I only counted two back there.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later, but it looks like the cavalry just arrived.” She nodded toward the entrance to the cemetery.
Two armored vehicles with US flags and State Department insignia on the doors had pulled up to the fence. Eight men in tactical clothes fanned out across the cemetery, two of them making a direct path toward David Cross, who now sat up.
“We need to get out of here before the Sudanese show up. They’re not exactly understanding, especially toward Westerners,” Amira said.
As they jogged toward the security teams, John vowed to recover his friend and his new ally, burning the country to the ground, if that’s what was required. We’ll find you, Logan. Just stay alive long enough to give us a chance.
“What are you smiling at?” Amira asked.
John didn’t realize he was, but he answered her directly. “They have no idea who they captured. If they don’t kill Logan, they’re probably going to wish they had before this is all over,” he said, grinning openly now.
Who was this man? she wondered as she ran alongside him, feeling a growing appreciation for someone who lived life the way she did—all in, all the time.
A fit, middle-aged man with short gray hair was waving them over to where David Cross was being attended to by one of the security force members.
“I believe you’re looking for us,” John said to the man as he and Amira reached him. John looked at David, who still seemed woozy. “How’s he doing?”
David managed to look up and smiled faintly at the sight of John. “Where are your friends?”
“Captured,” John replied flatly.
“Sonofabitch,” David muttered. He stared at the beautiful woman holding a submachine gun. Recognition crossed his face. “I’ve seen you at the embassy, haven’t I?”
“She’s with us. We can explain when we get you out of here. We’re already losing ground and falling behind these guys. We need to go—now.”
“Mr. Greco,” David said, turning his attention to the man tending to him, “can you please get us out of this cemetery?”
The man nodded, stood up, and turned to John, sticking out his hand. “I’m Tim Greco, the embassy’s RSO. Let’s get the hell out of here before company arrives.”
“What about these men?” Amira said, gesturing to the bodies strewn around them. “We need to know who they are, why they attacked, and most importantly, how they knew you were coming. We have to take one of them with us.”
“Ma’am, my mission is to get you all back to the embassy in one piece,” Tim responded. “We only have minutes before the Sudanese police get here, and God knows what those guys will do. We need to leave now.”
“She’s right though, Tim,” David said. “Get one of them, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Sir, it’s your call, but I’m advising against it. The Chinese will probably file a grievance with the US for kidnapping one of their citizens.”
“No. They won’t,” John said. “These guys are either Chinese special ops or spooks. After what they just pulled and how royally they fucked up, the Chinese government won’t acknowledge their existence. I guarantee these guys are on their own as of right now.”
“Like I said, I’m advising against this,” Tim said.
“Understood,” David said.
“This is the one we want,” John said as he stood over the unconscious form of the young Chinese gunman who’d first let his guard down. “I know he speaks English, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me when he wakes up.”
He bent over, grabbed the young man, and hauled him over his shoulder. “Now can we please get the hell out of here? I’m tired of carrying bodies around.”